Burke tries to clear his throat. The sound burrs in his ears, a worthless distraction.
“…and the same spirit.”
Burke looks over the woman’s shoulders at the Sister and Brother.
Then he tries to focus again on his Aunt Missy. He does not understand her. He knows little of God except for what he has been told since he moved here. His own mama and daddy never spoke of God, so Burke does not know if they believed or not. Burke senses that there is indeed a peculiar love for him here. And yet, it bounces off him, reflected like a dull light from the mirror shard that is his heart. He had no love at his other home, and cannot fathom if what Aunt Missy offers now is good or bad.
“Listen to me, boy. Remember. Have you forgotten all I’ve told you?”
Burke shakes his head.
“What then? Tell me.”
Burke blinks and tries his mouth. His tongue is fat and dead. He cannot make words come out.
“It’s the evil come home to us here in Beacon Cove, Burke. Those what live here are trampling on our holy traditions. They chew them up and spit them into the mouth of Satan. Now Satan’s mouth is waiting to have us.”
Burke’s gaze moves from Aunt Missy to the wrapped bundle she holds to her like a dead newborn. He knows what is in the bundle. He tries to lick his lips, but whatever is in his veins will not let him.
“You got to see it, Burke. You got to know what is out there, and what you must be vigilant against so you’re safe.”
Burke nods faintly. There is rampant sin, Missy has told him. It is settling and growing thick like sludge on a boiling pot. Many will suffer the sin. Many will be crushed under its weight. But those of the light will be spared.
Those with the sign of the Light. The mark of God.
No, Burke has not forgotten what he’s been told. And now, Aunt Missy’s hand is outstretched, offering to hold him above the sin around him. She is crazy for what she is about to do, she has scared him, and she loves him. Burke cannot make his hand move to hers.
“Burke,” says Aunt Missy. Burke cannot answer. “Repeat me, boy.”
The Brother and Sister drop to their knees. They fold their hands.
“Lord God of creation!” Missy says to the air above Burke’s head.
“Lord God of creation,” say the Brother and Sister.
Burke says, “Of creation.”
“Sin has found our neighbors and friends. Sin has crept in and made them unclean.”
The Sister and Brother repeat. Burke says, “Unclean.”
“And now the sin of them what die,” Missy says.
“Die,” Burke manages.
“Is consumed in deadly excess by the sineater.”
“Sineater,” says Burke.
“Protect us from the sin come back to harm us. Protect us from the sineater.”
Burke tries to focus on his aunt. The rim of his vision swims.
“Sineater,” he says.
“Give me your arm,” says Missy. The Brother and Sister stand up, two solemn and silent specters. “Burke, it’s time.”
Satan’s mouth will open wider and wider, Aunt Missy has said.
Burke knows that without the mark of God, he will fall into that maw. But he is also afraid of the mark of God because he knows it will hurt.
“You are all I have now that Patsy is lost. Trust me.”
At his other home, hate meant pain. Here, love is going to mean pain, too.
“Here, Burke.”
Burke wonders if there is a difference between love and hate. The only difference he can see is salvation.
“Burke.”
Burke looks at his arm, and then raises it clumsily toward Missy.
The arm is covered with freckles and red-gold hairs. The faces of the Sister and Brother move closer. Their hands reach out for Burke’s arms, and hold them firmly down against the wood of the table. Aunt Missy pushes the sleeve of his t-shirt up to his armpit, and twists the inner flesh of his arm to face her. As she moves, the short sleeve of her own cotton shirt pulls up, revealing that which Burke is about to receive. Burke thinks about pain, and wonders what he is supposed to think about while it is happening.
“Think about the safety of God,” Missy answers for him. She unrolls a small knife from the bundle. It looks like the knife he used two days ago when he brought in three trout from the Beacon River on his fifth day in Ellison. But this knife, he thinks, is not the same. It is a special knife.
“Think of God,” and Aunt Missy presses the point to the smooth flesh of Burke’s inner arm. “Think of the sineater and his evil. He is filled with more sin than can be held. He will rise up like the devil and chew us up. Think of…”
And the point slices down and under the skin and Burke arcs backward, sucking air in surprise and exquisite pain. He bolts straight again, but the Sister and Brother are strong. Aunt Missy’s fingers tighten about his thin arm, and the knife begins to slice up and down, carving, severing, working out the pattern.
“Jesus!” Burke cries.
“Yes!”
Burke’s eyes roll futilely; his feet dig against the floor beneath him.
“Yes!” repeats Aunt Missy. “Think of Jesus!”
Burke pants, swallowing air, gnashing teeth. He cannot think of God or love. He can only think of what he had at his other home, of BETRAYAL, and of HATE, and of PAIN. He can only watch the knife dancing through his living skin, gouting out blood and making the pattern of God. There is lava in his arm. He closes his eyes and howls through the anguish and sweat. If this is love, his tortured body screams, then God be damned! If this is good, he wants evil!
And then Aunt Missy says, “It’s done, boy. Look at this beautiful sign.”
Burke’s eyes cannot open right away, but he feels her withdraw the knife and place something heavy and cold on the fire of the wound. Then her hand touches his face.
“Look, Burke. It is a good thing.”
Burke opens his eyes. Missy is watching him. The Sister and Brother had stepped back. Missy lifts the wet washrag from his arm. There is a raw, bleeding star where smooth flesh had been. “He is the Light,” Missy says. “Say it, boy.”
God be damned. You be damned, Aunt Missy! Burke thinks.
“Say it, Burke.”
“He is the light,” Burke whispers. He stares at the crude star. He is nauseous.
Aunt Missy slathers her hands in a thinned tar solution and she rubs it into the cut. “In the morning,” she says. “I’ll take turpentine to this. It’ll clean off but what is in the pattern.” She turns Burke’s arm all around, looking it over. “Fine job here.”
Burke tastes blood and Aunt Missy’s spiced cabbage in the back of his throat, trying to come out.
Missy takes the bundle and knife across the room and puts them on the mantel. She rubs her hands with a towel. “We’re growing stronger,” she says finally. “The sins of this generation will not have dominion over the saved. The consort of the devil will not destroy us.”
The Brother and Sister nod, watching Burke.
Burke feels the coppery strangle of vomit shoot into his mouth. He gags, but swallows it down. He will not let her see him weak. His shoulders shudder, his stomach contracts, and he feels his body fold over with another heave. He grits his teeth. He swallows it down.
Missy shows the Brother and Sister to the door. The three go outside to the stoop. Moths and mosquitoes hurry into the kitchen on the wake of the closing screen door. Burke stands uneasily from the table. He head reels. When his stomach cramps this time, he lets it out onto the floor. He clutches himself weakly, wondering why Aunt Missy wouldn’t come now and put him to bed. Couldn’t love at least do that for pain? But as the nausea recedes, he is glad she didn’t. She has reminded him that love is a fake. In the real world, strength is the only truth that matters. If Missy knew his mind now, she would throw him to the demons without a second thought, screaming “Blasphemer!” to his back.